


Father's Doomsday

by Tristana (Astray)



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Community: asscreedkinkmeme, Gen, I should have something where Edward comes in and reminds Haytham of his own shitty gifts, Modern AU, Sorry Not Sorry, but I don't think Haytham would do anything terrible, especially for them, fatherhood is tough, like - terribly OOC, old kinkmeme fill, they are all OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 13:45:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2027289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astray/pseuds/Tristana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Father's Day is close at hand. While many fathers would rejoice at the prospect, some others actually dreaded it. This is what happen when you fathered a bunch of Assassins who don't care very much about it in general.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Father's Doomsday

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic is OLD. It was written when ACIII was still in the making or so - and no one had any clue about who Connor's dad would be.   
> I re-tweaked it a bit to have Haytham in it but he sounds OC anyway. *facepalm* I still hope it's okay.

Umar came rushing through corridors, as fast as he could without throwing away whatever dignity he had. Whatever was left of it. That son of him, he will hear about that. He opened the door, only to have it slamming in a painful sound into that wall. Yes, painful sound. The kind of sound that makes you prey you never end up between the wall and the door. 

“What with the crazy eyes, you are not even late?” Giovanni barely looked over from whatever paper was on his desk, as though having someone storming into the great room was a normal occurrence. Maybe it was a more normal one that he would care to admit. 

With that, Umar flopped into a seat, opposite to Faheem, who cast him a knowing glance. “I take it your son came up with a new one.”

“Brand new, and the little idiot is going to pay!”

“What happened, _again_?” Giovanni did his best to sound uninterested but he looked up, turning his undivided attention to Umar.

“Don't 'again' me!” He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. “Altair decided that Father's day was not good enough for him.”

“That's not a new one, every year, we get to hear about the two of you fighting.”

“I didn't fight with him. His mother remarked on it, during lunch, because you know, a day without argument is not a real one. So they argued, and he went off the handle, saying that from now on, he'd be called 'ibn la'had', since his parents are idiots. Among other things.”

“Not enough to make you that upset, friend.” Faheem knew well-enough about Altair's temper, mostly from what Malik told him, and he had to say that in his friend's stead, someone would have had some sore kick in the behind for the time being.

Suddently, Giovanni seemed to cheer up. “Don't tell us. Your wife turned on you, saying that you could have told him to show some respect instead of letting him talk nonsense and stomp away without taking his plate to the kitchen?”

The forlorn look on Umar's face spoke volume, and at that, Giovanni got up to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It'll pass. Happens to me all the time.”

“For real?”

“Si. And the best thing is that since I have three children who are actually acting like this most of the time, I am bestowed with thrice as many yelling matches. Though they get yelled at by their mother, before I get my share.”

“Man, you all look so depressed! Can't you cheer up, it's Father's Day tomorrow!”

Count on William Miles to make it all better. Or not.

“Precisely.” Came the not-so-enthusiastic answer. 

“What happened to you guys?”

“When the joy of fatherhood was distributed, these two apparently missed it.” 

“Oh, do shut up Al-Sayf. Not because your sons are so good and proper do you have to rub it in.”

“To rub what in?” And there came yet another one. Count on Haytham to make it worse – as far as deadpan snarkers went, the man was nothing short of devilish. 

“Nothing. It's Father's Day tomorrow and apparently, not everyone's happy.”

“Don't tell me about it. Connor decided that he would not bother with it anymore, saying he is too old for that.”

“Better this than having your eldest telling you that _you_ are too old.” And there Giovanni slumped back into a spare chair... right before slamming his head onto the table. 

Four pairs of scandalized eyes set on him. Damn that scrutiny, he did not need that. “Something you wanted to say?”

“No. Errr... Though it's not that much of a bad thing if your kids don't want to play the game anymore.” 

“William, you are digging your own grave. For real.” 

“Listen, I know it's not nice to have your sons telling you stuff like that but face it, you won't have to thank them for stupid gifts that always end up in a drawer anyway – as far out of sight as could be or fear someone find them and force them onto you all over again.” William was indeed proud of his argument. Again, he was a master at it, only Desmond seemed to disagree, but sons always have to disagree with their fathers. 

Giovanni and Umar stared at him, pensively so, before they began grinning like maniacs. Considering how calm and collected they are most of the time, Faheem could not help but worry about their sanity. Not that he was so hopeful, the two being rather reckless most of the time. And that was a vast understatement. 

“No more stupid gifts indeed. No more pasta sculptures and horrible paintings you have to get on the walls else they maul you!”

“Pasta sculptures? You got lucky. Apparently his teachers never updated and so, it was pasta collar all the time.”

“No, that's for Maria.” 

“Oh ri- wait, what? You mean it's for women?”

“Umar, not to sound like my son but... you are naturally thick like that, or are you playing dumb on purpose?”

“Malik!”

“Wrong one.”

“Sorry, I call you that when you're annoying.” It was all Umar said before settling into what came to be called the 'Ibn La'had sulk'. Family trademark. Copyright reserved. 

“What about you, Haytham?” In case things got out of hands, it would not be said that Giovanni did nothing about it.

“The usual. Though last time it was a tomahawk on which he was work with a friend of his who's training to become a blacksmith.” Tried as he might, he could not have prevented pride from swelling in his chest at the memory. Connor might not like Father's Day but at least he did his best finding gifts that were nice enough to avoid complaints. Haytham knew it was only so he would have an excuse to handle said tomahawk but he did not mind. Not that much at least, and not at all when he saw the flabbergasted expression slapped on the other men's faces.

“No way in Hell, how come you have cooler gifts than all of us?”

“Well, I am so awesome he felt like he would worship me?”

“Twat.”

“Mr. Awesome Twat, if you don't mind. Though his mother does not approve. Something to do with men being kids and playing around with weapons.”

“Well, you have to admit that she _might_ be tired of sewing the two of you back together when you fool around too much with knives.” Giovanni stopped there, not sure he trusted the evil glee he saw in Faheem's eyes. The man was being downright scary.

“Says the one who resorted to another doctor than the family one just to avoid him asking Maria how this and that wounds are going. Not to mention the countless brawls your boys engage.”

“As though you could talk! Malik is not quite so innocent as you'd make him sound.”

“Innocent would be more like Altair. And Malik would never go into trouble just because he felt like it.”

“Now that's enough! Another word and I swear I'll punch it back into your face!” Umar was positively seething.

“Arguably, Altair is a very clever lad.” Said William helpfully. “Especially so when it's about getting into trouble.”

“Oh, come on! Desmond is no better. If it weren't for Shaun and Lucy dragging him away, he'd be fighting all the time.”

“What can I say, he's proud. Just like his father.” Smirking, William finally decided to sit down, unaware of – or pointedly ignoring – the murderous vibes thrown his way. 

“Okay then... back to topic. Father's Day.”

“Umar, really. That's being childish.”

“I am entitled to. Sleeping on the couch entitles me to.”

“Sleeping on the couch entitles you to eat loads of cookies without anyone telling you not to.” 

“Sounds like something you do often, Giovanni.”

“Indeed. Though I must say sometimes I annoy Maria on purpose. So she won't ask me to deal with Claudia.”

Haytham chuckled at this, the others sharing conniving glances. “Heard your daughter had a... fiery temper.”

And right there, Giovanni's head met the table again. “Don't tell me about it. She's worse than her mother and she's stubborn as a mule. Though really, when it comes to Father's Day, she is not as bad as her brothers. Last time she got the boys out of the house, I have no idea how she did it but I can tell you this: this was the best thing in ages.”

“And then she asked you to go shopping with her.” Umar went on.

“And you accepted, due to overwhelming gratitude.” Said William.

“Yes.” A pause. “Wait, you think she did that so that I'll give her money for buying clothes?”

“Affirmative. And shoes.”

“And bags.” Added Haytham.

“You really are so gullible, Giovanni.” Smirked Faheem. 

“Children are sneaky. Girls are sneakier. Women are worse.” The long-suffering sigh Haytham let out was enough to prevent anyone from questioning the wisdom of such statement. Of course, no one would ever think about it in Ziio's presence, just in case.

“Oh dear...” Just was he was letting himself go for the table again, Umar seized him by the shoulder, forcing him back into his seat. 

“At least they were out of the house. Tranquillity is priceless.” 

“True. Now now, should we get something to drink? I have some old bottles waiting to be drunk – one is about as old as Claudia.”

“You know we don't drink,” Faheem said, motioning to Umar and himself. Stupid Europeans. 

“Well, surely you can have mead? It's grapes-free.” Giovanni was pretty certain they would drink if given enough incentive – they had explained to him how it worked but he consistently forgot everything. 

“Hmmm, alright.” 

And off they went, doing their best to slip into this praiseworthy forgetfulness provided by alcohol – forgetting that their sons were no longer ten, that their daughters were sneaky money-spender, that Father's Day was close by and most of all...

“You know what? The best thing would be... a day without anyone but us.” Giovanni was well-past tipsy now, having switched to Marsala a while ago and indeed, half-downing the bottle. 

“Didn't know you swung that way, Gio.” And then, off when Haytham, giggling like a schoolgirl, while Faheem just stared at him, making a face. Haytham never giggled. He was the epitome of British calm and aloofness. Or he was dead-drunk, which was an option – a scary one.

“Ewwww, gross!”

“You said 'ewwww', Faheem.” 

“And so?”

“Sounds childish.” And Umar was next, laughing like crazy to a joke he alone understood. Or maybe he didn't it was his own slurred speech that made him laugh. Being under pressure all the time.

“Nah but really. No kids. No wives. No one to yell at us. To tell us to get the trash out. To force us to sound happy when received God-awful present-thingy! Peace and tranquillity.”

No one heard the sounds of several pairs of heels going their way and stop meters from them. 

“Clearly, you should enjoy whatever peace you have now because tomorrow, peace will be a dream and none of you will be safe.” And with that, their wives turned around to leave, shaking their heads.

“Children I tell you.” Maria said.

“Don't mention it. Sometimes I feel like I have three of them at home.”

“Altair counts triple at this point. Though now I wonder. Did any of you see Ahmad today?”

“No, why?”

“Nothing. Umar wanted to ask him how he managed to vanish right before Father's Day.”

“Are Sofian's gifts so terrible?”

“See what your kids get Giovanni?”

“If I don't see them, I hear him rant about them. Why?”

“From what his wife told me, these are ten times worse.”

“Poor man...” And with that they went down the corridor, thinking to themselves that they would need to get earplugs by morning, for fear their hearing will be destroyed. 

When they turned a corner, a shadow moved from the wall. 

“Now I remember why I remained unmarried and with no children. Freedom... if only you had listening to me Giovanni... Would save us all that many headaches.” And with that La Volpe was gone, happily making his way to the roofs. Tomorrow will be fun. If what Claudia told him, Ezio and Federico positively outdid themselves.


End file.
